


We Are Giants

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Beforan Karkat, Beforus, Culling Mention, Hemoprejudice, Mutant Reader, Original Troll Character - Freeform, Other, Reader Insert, past emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3928918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wanted to prove everyone wrong.  Everyone who ever doubted you would see what you could <i>really</i> do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are Giants

You wrung your hands again out of nervousness at the sight of the moons just peeking above the horizon. The dark leather boots you wore shone in the dull lamplight, the only light in your tiny trainee quarters. You’d lost count of how many days you had this uniform hanging over your closet door, carefully pressed and ironed for this day. This would be one of the few days you put enough effort into your looks to actually hold up next to the cadets who did spend time on something so pointless.

 

And now you couldn’t get your damn hair to lie down.

 

Muffled clicks burst from your throat as you wrestled with your thick mane of hair. It was the only thing that didn’t fit the image of the perfect soldier. Your uniform jacket and shirt were starched stiff, the bold fuchsia symbol of Her Eternal Benevolence respondent on the jacket’s breast pocket. Your pants were equally stiff and clean; you could cut paper with the creases. The iron chain necklace from which would hang your own symbol, however, was absent. Mostly because you didn’t have one.

 

You swallowed nervously as you combed oil through your hair, the only way you could see to get it to lie still. The goggles that covered your peculiar eyes weren’t really part of the uniform, and you didn’t relish the idea of being exposed as what you were in front of the other cadets. You’d taken enough shit from practically everyone else in your life prior to your enlisting. Today, you’d become someone better.

 

Your hair finally tamed, if by an unhealthy amount of oil, you washed your hands again and pulled on your gloves. A final check in the mirror, and an adjustment to your goggles, and you headed out your door. The low heels of your boots clicked anxiously against the floors in a sea of other cadets, many of whom seemed to have just thrown on their uniforms and headed out the door half asleep. You resisted the urge to grin.

 

The gang of trolls began to form into vague lines as you approached the hall where you would all listen to the Threshecutioner’s new cadet speech. You had fought through basic training for a full sweep, enduring jeers and taunts and full on abuse at some points. And they would all stare at you in awe as you were anointed a hero. The Empress herself would cheer for you, and the whole of Beforus would call your name.

 

And your culler, the troll who had claimed you would never amount to anything other than a burden? Who had laughed at your misery about your blood? _She_ would never forgive herself; she could have been the caretaker of a hero. Instead, all she would be known as was the tormenter of children she was. And you would be happy. When you were done with your time in the army, you would retire to a comfortable hive of your own, in a light-filled forest like the ones you read about in your fairy tales. Perhaps you’d even have quads of your own.

 

You shook your head to clear it as you filed into the hall. The podium was still being set up, with two yellowbloods having a heated argument over the microphone. The cadets around you still slouched, some tapping their feet in irritation as they waited for the Threshecutioner to arrive. You rolled your eyes as you stood ramrod straight, your feet together and your hands clasped neatly in front of you. 

 

An abrupt silence filled the room as the yellowbloods jumped down and ran away and someone strode onto the platform. He was dressed in the dark grey and candy red uniform of the threshecutioners, a mask covering his face. Small, nubby horns poked out from his unruly hair, which was trimmed short, but still curly. His fingers tapped against his crossed arms, and somehow, you could tell he was scanning the crowd.

 

He reached up to pull off his mask, and the remainder of the slouchers straightened. This troll would rarely remove his mask, only doing so in very special situations. The glare he sent the slouchers after the mask was off made you feel that he could see perfectly well through the dark glass eyepieces. The Threshecutioner’s eyes were famous-it was said to be impossible to escape their gaze. Dark circles stood out prominently on his face, his exhaustion evident.

 

“All right, at attention, fuckers. I’m only going to say this once, so you better listen up if you don’t want to become a multicolored smear under the boot of the universe,” he snapped, yanking the microphone toward him fast enough for the metal to make a loud screeching sound. Someone snickered over to the left.

 

The Threshecutioner’s glare immediately snapped toward the speaker, who jolted in his spot and blanched. His expression only dropped further once the Threshecutioner hopped off of the platform and stalked toward him. A few of the other cadets giggled at the cadet’s misfortune, but you only felt a slight roll of nausea when you realized exactly how close the Threshecutioner was to you.

 

He came to a stop in front of the cadet, who was cowering slightly, head tilted back in submission. Despite the Threshecutioner being smaller than most of the cadets, he appeared to loom over the crowd. One of the Threshecutioner’s feet tapped against the floor, and he crossed his arms, teeth bared at the cadet.

 

“I’m sorry, do I fucking amuse you, Methic?” he growled. The cadet shook his head frantically, eyes wide. You winced in sympathy.

 

“N-no, sir!” Methic stammered. His hands were trembling, and you could see his blue tinted sweat. You blinked in surprise; not many bluebloods chose to join the threshecutioners willingly. It was one of the few areas of the military that lowblooded trolls shone more than their highblood protectors.

 

“Than don’t laugh, asshat, or I’ll start to suspect you of _not taking me seriously._ You wouldn’t want that, would you?” the Threshecutioner growled lowly. Methic stepped back, still shaking his head. His hair whipped back and forth, smacking him in the face.

 

“Good,” the Threshecutioner stated, whirling on his boot tip and sending that famous glare at you. You froze in abject fear, rolling your shoulders forward and tucking your chin instinctively to protect your throat. Your heart jumped with every boot click, and you refused to look up, at least until a dark gray chest patterned with candy red stopped in front of you. He was apparently taller than you, at least.

 

“Cadet (l/n).” A hand forced its way under your chin, and you fought back a growl as he tilted up your head so you would meet his eyes. He didn’t seem very angry; those red eyes seemed oddly calm, at least through your tinted goggles. Now that you got a bit of a closer look, you wrinkled your brow as you noticed how strangely... _bright_ they seemed. Maybe it was a trick of your lenses.

 

“Ordinarily, I wouldn’t give two shits about your uniform as long as you’re wearing all of it, but my _superiors,_ ” the word sounded sour on his tongue, “have informed me that for some asinine reason you aren’t allowed to wear things that aren’t part of the ‘official’ uniform. So the goggles will have to go.”

 

You flinched, eyes going wide. Nausea rippled through your stomach, and you felt a pulse of pain in your thinkpan. The whisper that came out of your mouth next could barely be heard by yourself, much less the Threshecutioner and the cadets who were curiously listening in. “Sir...I-I can’t….”

 

“What was that?” he snapped, glaring slightly. The whispers around you were getting louder, and you could see several people trying to peek around the Threshecutioner to see what was going on. You gulped and tried to ignore the pit rapidly forming in your chest. You had to listen to him, or else you would be kicked out of the organization even faster than you already were about to be.

 

“Yes, sir….” you mumbled, ignoring the sickness in your stomach. You reached up, gripped the strap, and pulled your goggles off in one quick movement. The whispers had stilled as you took several deep breaths. You felt pieces of your oiled hair fall into your face once again, as you remained concealed for one last moment before opening your bright, cyan blue eyes.

 

The reaction was instantaneous. The Threshecutioner’s lips parted in surprise, all the irritation leaving his face. Several people gasped, teeth baring in rage. Methic’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms, glaring at you. One of the bronzebloods giggled, elbowing her companion and whispering something. They pointed you out to the people breaking formation to find out the cause of the commotion, and soon they were laughing at you, too.

 

Pale blue tears began to drip from your eyes, as people began to shout insults from various places in the crowd. You couldn’t tell who any of them were, but you could pick out Methic’s deep bass clearly, considering he was looking right at you.

 

“Go back to your culler, mutant trash,” he spat. “The Threshecutioner ranks are no place for a weakling like you.”

 

“Won’t your claws and muscles be soft from all of your pampering? You wouldn’t last a second in the field,” a cobalt sneered, flexing her own sharp, thick claws. Her friends backed her up, nodding along with her and leering at you.

 

“What possessed them to come here…? It’s far too dangerous for one of them,” a teal mumbled to his fellows. When he looked at you, you saw judgement and pity in his eyes.

 

The tears came hotter and faster, and you looked at the ground, trying to keep your lip from wobbling, or from making a sound. Someone threw a stone at you, and it smacked into your left horn, falling to the ground as you hissed in pain, dropping your goggles, and clapped your hands over the base of your horns. More rocks came your way, and you covered your head with your arms, too preoccupied to notice your superior shaking in rage. You gasped as someone gripped your arm and pulled you backward, arms encircling you protectively, and the next moment your savior shouted into the crowd with clear rage in his voice.

 

“I’M GIVING YOU BLISTERING DUMBFUCKS FIVE SECONDS TO STOP BEFORE I SEND YOU TO ZAHHAK WITH ORDERS TO PUT YOU THROUGH THE EMPRESS’S RE-EDUCATION PROGRAM!” the Threshecutioner screeched, carefully shielding you from the other cadets. You stared up at him in shock, as the attacks ceased and the others seemed to realize just what they had done. The bronzeblood who had made fun of you burst into tears.

 

Face burning slightly, you tried to escape from the embrace, but he wouldn’t let you move. You could see a few cadets trying to sneak away, but the other soldiers who had appeared out of the woodwork on some hidden order forced them back into the crowd. The Threshecutioner’s voice was icy calm as he addressed the crowd.

 

“So. According to your unwanted, imbecilic opinion, which may I remind you, no one fucking asked to hear, mutants are, ‘too soft’, ‘too weak’, and ‘too pampered’ to fight alongside your _glorious_ examples of the perfect soldier?” he asked, rolling his eyes heavily as he did so. A few of the cadets hesitantly nodded, several of them glancing between each other in worry. The Threshecutioner removed one hand from your arm and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

 

“Let me put it this way,” he stated, flicking the switch on his earpiece, his voice growing much louder. He reached up to his eyes, and gently pressed a finger to the iris. You gasped quietly, and he looked at you out of the corner of his other eyes. You understood the silent message, and kept quiet.

 

He pushed his hair out of his eyes and looked at the whole room, “Do any of you fuckers want to say _I_ don’t belong here? Please. Do so. I’d love to hear your complaints.”

 

The whole room stilled, and you stared in shock at his unhidden left eye, which was...scarlet. Candy red. The Threshecutioner was a mutant, just like you. And no one had ever realized until now?

 

“Yep. Take a good, long look. And allow me to waste another breath attempting to get a simple idea through your Faygo-bloated thinkpans; our blood doesn’t do shit, nothing except that it carries oxygen through our veins. It doesn’t decide our strength. It doesn’t decide our intelligence. And it sure as fuck does not decide our potential.”

 

The Threshecutioner let you go and stepped away. You straightened yourself on instinct at the stares of the other cadets. Judgement, disgust, pity; all emotions you were familiar with. You could still feel the tears drying on your cheeks.

 

He placed a hand on your shoulder. “If I hear of anything like that disgusting display again during Cadet (l/n)’s time in this army, you can bet your ass I will kick you out of the ranks so fast you’ll still feel the burn when you reach the moon. Did I fucking stutter, or is that clear?”

 

They all shook their heads quickly, though some of them were still glaring at you. You wiped your eyes and turned back to the Threshecutioner. His arms were crossed, and he was still glaring at the crowd. He only blinked and refocused on you when you coughed awkwardly. Then, he returned to scowling normally.

 

“You better not make me regret this, cadet, or I swear on the ancestors I will make what remains of your existence a living hell,” he growled. You nodded, breaking into pose and a sharp salute. He nodded back, in quick approval, and returned to the podium, carving a wide path through the cadets. The other cadets gave you quite a wide breadth, but you paid them no mind.

 

The rest of the new recruit announcement proceeded normally. However, if you were going to pay attention to the Threshecutioner before, you never took your eyes off of your savior for a moment. Even though he had replaced his mask after the incident, you could feel him watching you and the people around you for any more trouble. You could also see that the other threshecutioners that had been deployed to keep the crowd in line were still there. One of them was speaking quietly into a walkie-talkie, and looking straight at you.

 

You ignored him, though, keeping your eyes fixed on the podium. The now dirty and smudged goggles were in your lap, thankfully unbroken from where you had dropped them. Everyone else seemed to be paying relative attention, thankfully, though you knew there had to be more people who still disliked you.

 

After the speech ended, people started filing out of the hall. Someone kicked your chair on the way past, but by the time you steadied yourself and looked up, they were gone. You grumbled to yourself, but when you saw that the Threshecutioner was leaving, you stumbled in your haste to get up. His legs were longer than yours, and you had to jog to catch him before he left.

 

“Sir? Um, um, sir?” you gasped as you ran, trying to catch up with him. He turned around in the hallway after a moment, but you had worked up enough momentum, and you crashed ungracefully into his chest. To his credit, he grunted, but remained standing. You could see he had raised an eyebrow under the mask as he looked down at you, and a light blush rose to your cheeks.

 

“What?” he asked. You bit your lip, and stumbled over your words for a moment, but finally managed to squeak out your answer.

 

“I, uh, wanted to say thank you, sir, for...helping me,” you mumbled, now embarrassed. At least you didn’t say ‘rescued’ or ‘protected’ like you had been thinking about.

 

He looked away, apparently staring at an interesting spot on the wall. For a moment, you imagined a pale red blush on his face under the mask. But then you shook your head and returned to reality. 

 

“It was no problem.” he said, turning back to you. “Someone has to prove those fuckers wrong.”

 

Against your will, a smile rose to your face, and you saluted him once more. “I promise, sir, I’ll do my best. I won’t disappoint you.”

 

You were pretty sure that was a curve of a smile under the mask. “Good. Now get out of here-tomorrow you get your first real shot at showing them what you can do. The fuckwads are going to be ready and waiting to tear you to pieces, but something tells me you aren’t going to be that easy to tear down.”

 

“I’ll be looking forward to seeing it.”


End file.
